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Volk's face darkened, and his voice lowered to a grim tone that sent shivers through the gathered crowd.

"However…" he began, his voice slow and deliberate, drawing their full attention, "they lost."

The Orcs froze, their expressions twisting from anger into disbelief and fear.

"Lost?" one Orc whispered, his voice barely audible, as if speaking the word might make it real.

"They lost?" another repeated, his hands gripping his weapon tightly. "How could they lose?!"

"That can't be!" an older Orc growled, his face pale despite his hardened features. "Our ancestors were the strongest warriors! How could they lose?"

The Ogres were slower to react, but even they exchanged uneasy glances, their growls fading into a tense silence.

"No… no lose," one Ogre muttered, shaking his massive head. "Ogre… no lose."

The murmurs grew louder, panic creeping into the voices of the horde.

"They lost? Then what chance do we have?"

"If even they couldn't win, how can we fight against the Warlocks?"

"Does this mean… we're doomed?"

A younger Orc clutched at his chest, his breaths coming fast. "They killed them all? Every one of them?"

"What kind of power could defeat an entire army of Ogres and Orcs?"

The fear was palpable now, spreading like wildfire through the horde. Volk let it simmer for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the panicked faces. Then, just as the tension reached its peak, he spoke again.

"But before they fell…" Volk's voice cut through the chaos like a blade, silencing the crowd instantly. "Before their defeat, they made one final, desperate act of defiance."

The Orcs and Ogres stared at him, their fear giving way to a tense anticipation.

"They sent their children away," Volk continued, his voice steady and deliberate. "Down to the lower realms, to a place where they could grow stronger, free from the Warlocks' grasp. A place where they could one day return… to have their revenge."

"Children?" an Orc blurted out, his eyes wide with shock.

"Lower realms?" another asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"What does that mean?" a third demanded. "What lower realm?"

Volk turned to face the horde fully, his golden eyes glowing with a fierce intensity. "This realm," he said, his voice firm. "Orzaroth. The very ground you stand on. It is the lower realm. And you… all of you… are their descendants."

The Orcs gasped, their jaws dropping as they exchanged incredulous looks.

"This realm?!" one shouted. "We're in the lower realm?!" Experience new stories with empire

"They sent their children here… and we're their children?"

"Does that mean we were meant to carry out their revenge?"

The questions came in a flood, the horde struggling to process the revelation.

"But why send us here? What's so special about this place?"

"What does it mean to be in a lower realm? Are we weaker than them?"

"Why didn't they just fight harder and win?"

Volk raised his hand, silencing the clamor once more. His voice took on a calm, almost teaching tone as he explained.

"The lower realm," Volk said, "is a plane of existence different from the higher realms where the Warlocks dwell. It is a place of lesser strength, lesser magic.

"The creatures here are not as powerful as those above. But that is precisely why they sent you here. To grow, to learn, to forge your strength in a crucible far from the Warlocks' reach."

The horde absorbed his words, their initial panic giving way to a cautious understanding.

"So… the lower realm is like training grounds?" one Orc asked, his voice tinged with hope.

"But if this is the lower realm," another said, "does that mean there are higher realms? Realms where Orcs and Ogres are even stronger than us?"

Volk nodded, a grim smile playing on his lips. "Yes," he confirmed. "The higher realms are places of unimaginable power. Realms where Orcs and Ogres like us live and fight at levels you can scarcely comprehend.

"And one day, when you are ready, you will ascend to those realms. You will face the Warlocks and their forces. And you will fulfill the destiny your ancestors entrusted to you."

The Orcs and Ogres exchanged glances, their fear replaced by a growing determination.

"So, we're not just here to survive," one said, his voice growing stronger. "We're here to prepare. To become strong enough to face them."

"To become warriors who can finish what our ancestors started," another added, gripping his weapon tightly.

"To prove that the spirit of the Orcs and Ogres can never be broken," a third declared, his eyes blazing with resolve.

Volk watched them, the spark of determination catching fire in their eyes. He nodded, satisfied. "Yes," he said.

"But you must be ready. The path ahead will not be easy. The Warlocks are still out there, and they will not rest until they have destroyed everything we stand for.

"But with strength, with unity, and with the unyielding spirit of our ancestors, we will rise. And we will show them what it means to be Orcs and Ogres."

The Ogres erupted in cheers, their booming voices shaking the forest around them.

Their excitement was raw and primal, each shout laced with years of pent-up frustration finally finding an outlet.

"FIGHT!" one massive Ogre roared, raising his meaty fists high above his head. "NO LOSE! NEVER LOSE AGAIN!"

Another slammed his enormous foot into the ground, causing the earth to quake. "WARLOCKS PAY! MAKE THEM FEEL OGRE FIST!"

"REVENGE!" a third bellowed, his voice carrying across the clearing. "OGRES NO SLAVE! OGRES FREE!"

The cheers grew louder and more chaotic, blending into a cacophony of anger and triumph.

"SMASH THEM ALL!"

"NO MORE CHAIN!"

"WARLOCKS FEAR OGRES NOW!"

"WE STRONG! WE WIN!"

The Orcs, slightly more composed, began adding their voices to the mix.

"For the ancestors!"

"For the horde!"

"Let them see our wrath!"

An older Orc clapped his hands together, his voice shaking with emotion. "Finally… finally, we have a purpose beyond just surviving!"n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

A younger Orc jumped up and down, swinging his axe wildly in the air. "We'll show them what Orcs and Ogres can do together!"

The female Ogres joined in, their voices higher but no less fierce.

"NO TAKE OGRE BABY AGAIN!"

"FIGHT FOR FUTURE!"

Even the usually stoic members of the horde found themselves swept up in the fervor.

Volk watched with a faint smirk, letting the chaotic celebration run its course. But after a while, he raised a hand, his sharp eyes glinting. "Enough."

The command sliced through the noise like a blade, and slowly, the horde quieted.

The silence hung heavy for a moment before one Orc stepped forward, his brows furrowed. "Warchief," he said, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Is that it? Is there… more to the story?"

All eyes turned to Volk, their faces filled with expectation.

Volk let the question hang in the air, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, he said, "Yes. There is more. Much more."

The horde leaned in closer, their anticipation palpable.

"Elves," Volk said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Elves?" several Orcs echoed, their confusion evident.

"Yes," Volk continued, his tone calm but commanding. "Elves. They were our ancestors' wives."